In the Morning
by twriter12
Summary: Rick and Michonne take a little time to enjoy each other before their day starts.


Rick was still in bed when Michonne returned to their bedroom. Except now he was sitting up with the comforter at his waist, his back against the headboard, and Deanna's old expansion plans laid out on his lap. He packed them away after the attack on the community and that massive walker herd. Pulled out briefly once they had to rebuild the wall after the tower fell, they were forgotten again for what seemed like an eternity until the community dealt with Negan and the Saviors.

He opened the curtains and window while she was downstairs. Winter was gone and, according to Eugene, spring had officially arrived. The weather tended to agree. Sunlight flooded the room. A steady, gentle breeze lifted the sheer white curtains causing them to ripple like waves. She stood in the doorway and watched him. For a man keenly aware of his surroundings, head on a swivel at all times, it made her happy he was comfortable enough in their home that he zoned out and didn't pick her up in his peripheral.

He deserved that peace. Every day, she resolved to help him find as much as possible. Life wasn't easy, it never really was, but countless times he nearly died trying to make this new world just a little better for those he loved and those he didn't know. And that was what she loved about him, why she respected him. He was a good man. Actually, he was far better than good. There were plenty of good men still around but there was only one Rick Grimes. And to be honest, she couldn't love anyone but him. Only Rick.

She inhaled and ran her tongue over her lips, biting down on the bottom one as she continued to take him in. He was shirtless, hair disheveled. He was more salt and pepper than ever. The top of his head. His beard especially, and the hair on his chest. He may have aged, eyesight diminished, bones may creak, but not even this hard life could prevent him from being beautiful and distinguished, especially with those reading glasses on.

They were home alone; Diane, one of the women who moved from The Sanctuary for a fresh start, babysat Judith the previous night. By the time Michonne and Rick were finished working Judith was asleep and Diane insisted she stay. She knew Diane wouldn't be in a rush to bring Judith back. Since they had a little time they slept in as long as they could but they were both early risers so that meant lingering in bed. Lingering. Kissing. Touching.

She cleared her throat.

Rick looked up and took note of the breakfast tray she held with two cups of coffee and a large bowl of fruit. "Room service?"

Then he got down to the business of taking her in. She was in a white tank top and black panties, loving the freedom of walking around barely dressed when it was just the two of them. He loved her and respected everything about her from her intelligence to her bravery but damn if he didn't appreciate how sexy she was. Those thighs — toned on the outside, soft and inviting on the inside. Hips that curved, directing anyone's attention to the best ass in the world. He couldn't help smiling like a Cheshire cat. He went to sleep and woke up next to this woman every day.

"Even better, breakfast in bed," she said as she walked across the plush, gray carpet and placed the tray on the nightstand. The red nail polish on her toes standing out against the dull carpet. It was a little something about her that only he saw.

He folded the plans and slid over leaving just enough room next to him for part of her ass to rest on the edge of the bed. He loved being near her, skin soft and smooth. He knew she loved being close to him too, feeling the warmth his body radiated. Sometimes when they were on the couch watching a movie she wrapped herself around him, arms and legs, like she was holding on for dear life. He never argued. It was never too much, he never felt crowded. They loved touching each other even if it was just holding hands or fleeting touch with a fingertip. They just needed that physical manifestation of their love. Even deep sleep couldn't prevent their bodies from gravitating to each other.

"No fork?" He asked.

"Don't need one," she said. "See." She grabbed a peach slice and held it to his mouth while holding his stare. He bit down and the juice ran down her hand. He licked her fingers then took them in his mouth, sucking as he watched her. She was mesmerized by his swirling tongue circling her fingers, then he bit down gently but not too gently, then he licked them again. Pain soothed by erotic pleasure.

She gasped. He smirked. Not in all her years and all her lovers had a man looked at her the way he did — like he wanted to consume her. She hadn't realized she was breathing aloud until she heard herself panting. Within a minute of being near him, she was breathless. Completely turned on.

"You okay?" He asked with a hint of a smile and a raised eyebrow. The answer was obvious. His ego demanded she knew he was aware of the effect he had on her. And that he could elicit such desire with minimal effort.

She cleared her throat. "You've always been good at being bad," she said as she leaned down and joined him in licking her fingers, though by now they were clean thanks to him. Their tongues touched as they swirled around her fingers and soon she dropped her hand and the pretense this was anything other than what it was — a prelude to sex. The kiss continued and the food was forgotten as she climbed into his lap and straddled him.

When his tongue plunged into her mouth she moaned, her body sank, instantly submitting. Whatever he wanted was his. One of his hands gripped the side of her neck, holding her steady in the position he desired while the other slid flat under her tank top and up her back. His kisses were almost smothering and always erotic, there was no such thing as just a kiss where he was concerned. His kisses, whether long or not, said something. Said he loved her. Wanted her. Needed her. She had to break away in order to breathe, but he didn't need air, just the taste of her as his mouth latched onto her neck.

That slight pressure of his tongue sent a shiver down her spine, her shuddering body his gift for touching her just right. He knew her body. Studied her body. Was obsessed with it. He was a slave to it because he had no control over his desire for her.

He knew how to make her feel good. Always did from the first time they were together on that couch. She once said life now was definitely too short for bad sex. Their first time wasn't bad — it simply got better and better. That what happened when they weren't shy about what they liked and what they wanted. And they were both willing to do anything. No hangups.

She pulled back and removed her top, tossing it onto the floor then allowed him the joy of her breasts. He loved them, she knew that. Sometimes she couldn't walk past him without him reaching out for a squeeze or coming up behind her and cupping them as he held her against his chest.

His stare was intense. So focused on her chest she wasn't sure he remembered the rest of her body existed. She had no complaints as his calloused hands palmed her breasts, covering them. She loved the rough texture of his hands on her skin. It made her feel even more delicate and his hands were a reminder of his strength and determination — his virility.

"Perfect," he whispered. She heard him say that so many times she was starting to believe it. To believe they were the perfect size for his hands. Fit perfectly, every inch of them covered. He squeezed them then moved his hands just enough to run his thumbs over her nipples, bringing them fully to life with his touch, sending an electric current through her body.

He marveled, as her body arched pushing her breasts closer to his face. Pleasure took over and her head fell back. Leaning forward, he took a nipple into his mouth squeezing her breasts as he did. Just as he did with her fingers he sucked, bit, and licked, but this time there was an added bonus: he blew cool air on her nipples, still wet from being in his mouth. He moaned the entire time. She loved how vocal he could be in appreciation of her body.

"Look at me," he whispered.

Her eyes were already glassed over and they had yet to really get down to business. She tried as best she could to focus on him. His hand slid up to her mouth, his thumb ran over her lips and she opened her mouth slightly, just enough for his thumb to enter. She sucked on it; bit it hard enough for him to wonder if she drew blood before licking it with her tongue, mimicking the same swirling technique he'd used on her fingers. She always did give as good as she got.

He used his other hand to grip the back of her neck and pulled her against him for a kiss. There was a desperation in his kisses that thrilled her. Demanding. Possessive. Stifling. She never tired of being wanted this much. His passion was wild. He was rough and greedy. Just when she was lost in the kiss she felt his other hand between her legs. Rubbing her through the black lace of her panties.

She probably thought he would be quick, but he continued. This wasn't a check to see if she was ready. He wanted to get her off before they had sex. She was always sensitive after her first orgasm and it made the ones to follow more intense. Her eyelids fluttered, her hips rolled, she licked her lips, her mouth remained open, then her head fell back. He watched as she went through all the tells of her pleasure until the final tell — the shuddering.

She smiled at him. He cupped her face, awed by the way she melted against his touch. She turned her head and peppered his inner wrist with kisses. They remained this way, in no rush for the inevitable. They were content with sweet kisses and touches.

She repositioned herself on his lap, inching closer up his body, the friction causing them both to moan; they were already caught up in the rapture and now ready for more. She hated to lose even the slightest contact but shifted her body just enough to rid herself of her panties while he quickly discarded his boxers then went for his glasses.

"Leave the glasses on," she whispered with an impish smile on her face.

He was momentarily confused but that was soon replaced with recognition. "Really? The glasses do it for you?"

She nodded. She held his face in her hands. "You have no idea." She kissed him. It was more than a kiss. It was intoxicating feeling her tongue roam his mouth.

This woman amazed him, always managing to make him feel beyond worthy. Wanted. He was awestruck each time she admitted a different way he turned her on. He could understand maybe seeing him naked or even shirtless. But his brown T-shirt? His blue denim shirt? The way he walked? It all seemed silly to him but he couldn't argue with the results — a lot of affection and great sex. The glasses? He 'd have to remember that.

He moved forward, away from the headboard so he could lie back. She took hold of him, steadying him beneath her and slid down. They both smiled. Staring into each other's eyes as she found her rhythm. It never took long.

He watched his own hands run up her thighs, over her belly, and squeeze her breasts. His hands had a mind of their own when it came to her body. This was one of this favorite positions. Hell, who was he kidding? Any way that allowed him to be inside of her was his favorite. But this way, it was great. He loved being able to watch her, breasts bouncing as she rode him, the muscles in her stomach contracting.

She leaned forward. One hand bracing against the headboard, the other on the bed by his head. Her breasts teasing him, swaying back and forth so tantalizing close. She seemed to be low enough. He lifted his head off the pillow and captured one of her breasts, sucking her nipple. His hands on her hips encouraging her continued rocking as his fingernails dug into her flesh.

She lowered her upper body completely, her chest against his, her face beside his — cheek to cheek. He wrapped his arms around her waist trapping her body against his. The only part of her capable of moving was her hips as she continued to ride him. Rising up and down. His whispered words of encouragement filled her ear. The more he spoke, the faster she moved and the louder she became. Primal. Grunting and moaning. Occasional begging. The room was filled with her sounds.

She sat up. They stared into each other's eyes. He lifted his hands, probably to grab her breasts again but she had other plans. She held his hands, fingers intertwined and braced herself against them, using them as leverage to rock back and forth. Her body was exhausted and sore, they enjoyed each other the night before, but her desire wasn't satiated as she continued to ride him. She wanted this to last forever.

They were good together. They could be sweet and calm. They were also fire, madness, and frenetic desperation. No matter what, it was always perfect. Always what they needed at any given moment. This world molded them — built them — especially for each other. The perfect pair, perfect in every way.

He momentarily contemplated switching positions so he could be on top but he saw the look on her face, the look of both focus and pleasure, and knew not to disturb the moment. She was feeling good and he wanted only to prolong it for as long as possible.

She dropped his hands and placed hers on his shoulders. He was looking at her but she wasn't sure he saw her. It was like he was in a trance. He was near, she could tell by the slightest change in his rhythm. At some point, she was no longer in control despite being on top. He made his way between her legs, rubbing her so they could finish together or at least so she would follow right behind him. She never much cared about simultaneous orgasms as long as they both got what they needed. And Rick was a lot of things but selfish lover was not one of them.

She was first then she watched his face contort almost as if in pain. But it was all pleasure, she knew. Unadulterated pleasure and she loved watching it splashed across his face.

"Fuck," he groaned.

He pulled her face down and kissed her quick. She kept kissing — his cheek and down to his neck, tasting the saltiness of the sweat. She groaned as she stretched her legs and lay on top of him. They remained that way until their breathing slowed down.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I know," she said as she rolled off of him a lay beside him.

"How do you know?" He asked playfully.

"Because I felt it," she said as she ran her hand over his chest.

He tried to tell her without words. With his actions. And yes, even in the bedroom. He tried to make every inch of him tell every inch of her that she meant the world to him.

"Shower?"

Her voice was already feeling the effects of her screaming. He loved when her voice was raspy.

"Then back to bed?" He smiled.

"I think we should get dressed and ready for Judith or we'll never leave this bed." She gave him a slap on the chest and climbed out of bed.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he said as he followed her into the bathroom, exhausted, but still enjoying the view of her naked body.


End file.
